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A quarter to five o’clock
~Christian’s POV~
“Why am I doing this again? And why won’t this fucking tie knot the way it’s supposed to?”
From behind me small hands reach around my chest covering my fingers to stop my fumbling movements.
“Watch your language, Christian, or Momma will have your hide. And you can lose the tie, you look good enough in the suit without it.”
The owner of the hands doesn’t answer the why am I doing this part of my frustrated grumble.
“I thought you were down the hall either hiding or getting ready yourself, Jenny.”
Getting ready because Jenny and her husband Mark are coming to tonight’s fundraiser as well. Hiding because I might have been more than a little vocal in my dislike of this damn monkey she’s got me wearing. Normally I wouldn’t let her shoulder one hundred percent of the blame for anything, but the only other person to blame is my reason is my three-month-old niece and I can tell you here and now I won’t ever be mad at her.
Seriously that girl has a free ride to crash any and every vehicle I own when she grows up.
“I am ready, and I’m not hiding. You can make as big a show as you want of your grumbling Christian Kane, and whine about having to wear a suit as much as you like but I know the truth.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
I have ranch hands that damn near wet their pants at that tone of my voice but my sister doesn’t even blink.
“The truth is you would have done anything in your power to help the children’s hospital, even before I had Gracie. Now though, it’s personal and that means you’ll build the new wing yourself if you have to.”
Stepping back from where she was pressed against my back, Jenny turns me around to face her, resting her hands on my shoulders.
“Try to have fun tonight, Christian, please? It’s New Years Eve, and that means it’s a new beginning for all of us. I know you’re not overly comfortable in a suit or in a room of people there to kiss fresh air and backsides, but you never know who or what might be waiting when the clock strikes twelve.”
I’d be placing money against it being Cinderella, or the Prince Charming I’d prefer, but tonight is about Jenny. And Grace.
Kissing my sister’s cheek, I’m at least trying to smile when I straighten back up.
“I don’t need the tie?”
“You don’t need the tie.”
“Is Mark ready?”
“And waiting.”
“Then what are we standing here for, let’s go.”
~*~
Around twenty past five
~Jared’s POV~
“Why am I doing this again? And what the fuck am I meant to wear?”
Chad’s ignoring my tantrum and I really don’t blame him. Given the option I’d be ignoring me too. Only this time I’d like a little input from the roommate I don’t need financially but keep around anyway.
“Chad!”
“For fuck’s sake, Jay, I’m four feet away from you not four light years, you don’t need to use your outdoor screeching at dogs voice.”
I’d believe he was actually paying attention to me if his eyes had shifted from TV currently showing ‘Girl’s of the Playboy Mansion’ for even a nano second.
“If you answered my questions when I asked them, I wouldn’t be yelling at you like one of my babies, would I?”
“And if you asked a question that I didn’t see as purely rhetorical and redundant maybe I’d answer it.”
It’s like arguing with an intelligent echo. The words are right but you wonder where in hell they’re coming from.
“Neither of my questions were either of those things, Chad.”
“Both of your questions fit said definitions of exactly those words.”
Still without taking his eyes from the TV, Chad lifts a hand facing the palm towards me to stop any kind of rebuttal I was about to make.
“But since, for whatever reason, you’re about to have a fucking meltdown over nothing I’ll answer your dumb questions. Since this fundraiser is a black tie event and your entire fucking formal is black, go find some dress pants and a Henley shirt of some kind – you’re an artist, you can get away without the black tie – and put them on. Miraculously your what to wear dilemma is solved. As to way you’re going to the benefit in the first place, it’s a children’s hospital, you love kids. And at the risk of repeating myself, you’re an artist and you’ve been commissioned to make a piece for the children’s wing they’re fundraising for, you’ve also donated another piece to be auctioned tonight, you fucking have to be there. Now quit bitching and man up already.”
I hate this guy when he’s all logical and right and shit.
Ten minute later, which is five minutes past the time I should have left, I’m standing in front of the TV making sure Chad can see me in exactly the outfit he told me to wear.
“You do know I am neither Carson Kressley or gay, don’t you, Jay? And where the fuck are your shoes?”
“Yes, I know, he’d be neater as a room mate and he wouldn’t turn farting into an Olympic sport like you have, I just want to know this looks, I don’t know, okay. As for my shoes, I don’t feel like wearing them.”
I’m an artist after all.
For some reason though, now, when I’m running late, Chad gives me his full attention. The blonde chick that’s not the twins must be on TV, he doesn’t like her as much as the twins.
“Seriously, Jayman, why is this freaking you out? You’ve done dozens of this kind of event since you sold your first piece. I know that nine times out of ten you’d rather be playing with the dogs or stabbing yourself in the ear with an ice pick, but you’re normally better at playing the game than this.”
Late or not, I’m sitting down on the coffee table.
“This is home, Chad, or as near to it as I’m ever going to get. This is the first time since the whole ‘he’s too young, hasn’t suffered, talks about shit he has no idea about’ shit hit the fan that I’ve invited any publicity in this state. What happens if all the negativity starts again? Because, I’ll be honest, I don’t think I can ride that merry-go-round again.”
My night keeps getting weirder, because Chad actually thinks about his answer before opening his mouth.
“I can’t promise it won’t happen again. But you’re eight years older now, you’ve got pieces that have been asked for and have had good money paid for them all over this country. Everybody that has ever commissioned or bought one of pieces can’t be wrong, Jared, though the media all over this country quiet often is. Your problem is you expect to have rotten tomatoes thrown at you every time you leave the front door. You are not the eight foot tall high school student that wanted to play with clay rather than a basketball anymore, Jay. You’re the renowned Jared Padalecki, respected and collected artist and the people that will be there tonight want you there. They asked you, you’re not gate crashing. And you never know, hell could freeze over and you might enjoy yourself. I think you should wear shoes though.”
“I can be eclectic.”
“Yeah, well, I guess your collection of pink clothing proves that much. So move your ass, you’re running late and the twins are about to play on the slip n’ slide on the mansions front lawn.”
“Chad? Thanks.”
“Still not gay, dick, move.”
I’m moving.
If I’m not wearing a tie, or shoes, to a black tie event I think I can get away with being fashionably late as well.
~*~
Twenty five to six o’clock
~Christian’s POV~
I really should have looked into bringing a date to this thing, but I don’t know any girls that would have been happy with becoming a form of self-preservation on my behalf. I don’t know any guys that would have been up to that either. I wish I’d have had a date to bring for the real reason one should have a date, but then we’re back to the I don’t know any guys thing.
I like girls as much as the next gay man, which kind of means looking at them is just fine by me. It’s just that when it comes to who I want underneath me, or on top of me for that matter, I want hard muscle that I can bruise without worrying about break it. Oh yeah, and I want a cock. So girls are kind of out.
Back to the whole date thing though, if I’d brought a date, Jenny wouldn’t be shooting me worried glances like she was scared to leave me alone, Mrs Porter wouldn’t be eyeing me off like I was an endless supply of lobster at an all you can eat buffet, and Mrs Riesgraf wouldn’t be about to stick her granddaughter under my nose for the three hundredth time.
“Good evening, Christian, it’s always nice to see you at one of our social evenings, and don’t you look edible all dressed up.”
From behind her grandmother, Beth is rolling her eyes. If she makes me laugh I’m going to take it out of her hide I swear.
“Evening, Ma’am, thank you for inviting me. You’re looking at your best tonight yourself, Miss Riesgraf.”
“You do remember my granddaughter, Beth, don’t you Christian?”
She’s dating one of my best friend, I think I can recall her name.
“Sure do, Ma’am. Why don’t you leave that lovely girl with me and go see to something I know you want to stay on top of.”
Because you will always be the biggest busybody in Dallas no matter how large Dallas gets.
“Oh thank you, Christian, that would be lovely. Beth, honey, be nice to the young man.”
But before Beth can say a word, Mrs Riesgraf is gone. Thank fucking god.
If I was anywhere else but here, I’d be pulling Beth into a hug and kissing her cheek. But if I do that now by tomorrow morning the press will have us engaged and I really don’t think either of us wants that as a headline in the society page. So instead I grab her hand and squeeze it hard enough that she knows.
“Deep breath, Darlin’, tonight will end.”
“Why did I come back here, Chris? Really, why? That old bat, who I love dearly, keeps throwing you at me when I have a perfectly good boyfriend who thinks the world of me, and, oh yeah, isn’t gay.”
All I can do is laugh.
“This is Texas, Beth, white girls don’t date black Californians and gay men are just extremely happy.”
“I fucking hate Texas.”
“No, you don’t honey, and you know it. You and Aldis are going to get married, have babies that will be born in the wing of the hospital we’re all shelling out money for tonight and those grandbabies will get your forgiven for absolutely everything. As inbreed as some stupid prejudices can be, your family aren’t stupid. They’ll eventually work out that Aldis is a good man who thinks you walk on water when we both know your temper alone makes you no candidate for sainthood.”
Yes, I actually believe that what I’m saying when it comes to Texas attaitudes. I have to. My home state is not a bunch red-necked idiots despite us being responsible for the Bush family.
“What about you, Chris?”
“Your guess is as good as mine in that regard, darlin’.”
I’m not in the closet to hide, I’m in the closet because there hasn’t been a good reason to come out of it.
“I worry about you, Christian.”
“Don’t, Beth, Jenny does that enough for the whole human race. Now, put on your society face and tell me what’s going on tonight. To say I got the Reader’s Digest version is a vast understatement.”
Basically I got Jenny telling me to write a cheque and then she wrote in my diary I was busy tonight.
I know Beth wants to say more or throw a little nagging into the mix, but instead she takes my arm and leads us through to tables towards the stage at the opposite end of the venue.
“Tonight you have paid a ridiculous amount of money for some food that you will swear isn’t as good as your Momma’s, and when you do that you will be right. You’ll also probably still be hungry and trying to find an all night pizza place on the way home. There will also be auctions during the meal selling off anything from free tune ups for a year to, well, one of the more insane things is a year of yoga lessons. Which isn’t insane in reality, but in Dallas? We’ll see. The guest of honour, who isn’t here yet and is the main reason for grandmother’s tither, is the sculpture artist from San Antonio, Jared Padalecki. He’s doing a piece for the lobby of the new wing, but he’s also donated something to be auctioned. This.”
The hand Beth waves at the foot and a half high statue sitting pride of place on the table in front of the stage proves she’ll never be a showroom model. But then again I can’t imagine that even Heidi Klum would make this work of art any more beautiful than it is just by existing.
I recognise the wood for what it is, the red to purple tones of Purple Heart are unmistakable. It’s also an absolute bitch to cut so how the fuck you carve it is beyond me. However, carved it is. The figure is kneeling, its body and its face are human but androgenous, because for this piece the gender of the being is irrelevant. Spreading from its back are the most amazing wings that curl forward towards the hands resting on the bent knees. The wings are carved with the grain of the wood, playing with the colour changes running along that grain. Beth is still saying something that I’m not paying any attention to, but I know she stops when I take a step towards the sculpture. It’s only then that I can see there’s something cradled in the hands, a misshapen pearl that it’s holding and keeping safe like it’s the Hope Diamond or something exactly as perfect.
That pearl is like a lot of kids that’ll be treated in the hospital, damaged in the eyes of the outside world, but absolutely perfect to their parents.
This is fucking amazing.
And it’s coming home with me tonight.
“Christian?”
The fact Beth is using my full name and the tone of her voice tell me that isn’t the first time she’s said my name.
“Sorry, Beth, what were you saying?”
“I was agreeing with what you weren’t saying, that it is absolutely beautiful.”
“Yeah, it is.”
There might have been something to follow my simple, understated agreement but Beth’s tornado, I mean Grandma, is back.
“Dinner’s about to start, and I’ve been told that Mr Padalecki has just arrived, so I need both of you to lead the way and take your seats, please?”
It’s going to be one those nights where everything has to be perfect for Mr Padalecki, isn’t it?
“Ma’am, Beth, can I show you to your places?”
“Oh Christian, you sweet boy. I’m going to welcome our guest of honour with Juliana Wilson, but, please, can you look after my Beth?”
“It’ll be my pleasure, Ma’am.”
I think there was a ‘thank you’ as Mrs Riesgraf rushed away, but I couldn’t be sure. Apparently she needed to be in the lobby more than she needed to make absolute sure I was looking after Beth.
“You can be a little less polite, Kane, every old biddy here thinks you’re perfect for the daughter, niece, granddaughter. Hell, half the men probably wish you’d take their wives.”
“And gay or not, my Momma would skin me alive if I wasn’t polite. C’mon, woman, it’s time to sit down and wait for your dried out chicken.”
Beth’s eyes say ‘I can find my own seat’ as well as a few words not spoken at society events, but she offers me her arm anyway.
“Thank you for humouring me, darlin’, and letting me pretend to be the perfect gentleman.”
The snorting sound Beth makes is anything but ladylike but she let’s me seat her anyway.
~*~
Ten to six
~Jared’s POV~
I’ve been introduced to the six mature ladies in front of me, twice, but I’m still damned if I can remember a single name, let alone which lady said name would belong too.
“I’m sorry I’m running a little late, ladies. I hope I haven’t thrown your schedule out.”
“Oh no, Jared…May I call you Jared?”
I’m nodding because I know I’ll get called whatever this lady wants to call me whatever I say.
“Thank you, Jared, but as I was saying, we’re just about to start serving dinner so if I can just show you to your seat the festivities can begin. You’ll be sitting beside my granddaughter, Beth. She’s a beautiful girl, you’ll see.”
The way this little old lady is dragging me past everybody else as we head towards the front of the room makes me wonder two things. Was she lying about me being late not being a big deal? Or is she that desperate to pair off her granddaughter that I have to meet her *now*.
Think of the children, Jared, that’s why you’re doing this. It’s just one night and you’ve done it all before.
“Jared, this beauty is my granddaughter, Beth. Beth, sweetheart, this is Mr Padalecki, please keep him company.”
I’m beginning to think Mrs Grandmother of Beth is taking speed when nobody is looking because she smiled at me, then Beth before taking off again.
“Coke snorting hummingbird.”
That wasn’t me that said that, was it?
“I’m sorry?”
“My Grandma is a coke snorting hummingbird. She’s delusional too. So far tonight she’s thrown me at a gay man and now you. My boyfriend will be ever so happy.”
Like grandmother like granddaughter if you ask me.
“If your boyfriend was here-“
“Mr Padalecki, my boyfriend loves me, but not enough to suffer through tonight as well as paying for the privilege. Hell I wouldn’t be here if Grandma hasn’t paid for my plate. One day Grandma will work out that Aldis loves me no matter what colour his skin is.”
Oh, now it all makes sense. Texas society at it’s not so great.
My smile is real for the first time since I entered this building when I hold out my hand.
“Hi, I’m Jared, please to meet you.”
“Hello Jared, I’m Beth.”
I couldn’t tell you where what I say next comes from.
“So, I’m not the only gay man here?”
Beth snorts as she laughs and I know I have an ally for the next few hours at least.
I wonder how long it’ll take somebody to mention the fact I’m not wearing shoes?
~*~
Six O’Clock
~Christian’s POV~
“Thank you all for coming tonight to help us raise fund for the new special care children’s wing of our wonderful hospital here in Dallas. With the generosity of the people I can see around the room, and that of our guest of honour. I’m sure we’ll have no trouble making a more than ample start on the target we need to reach.”
There’s polite applause around the room as Mrs Wilson makes the welcoming speech and I can’t help but smile at what kind of face off took place for her to win that honour.
“Tonight as you enjoy the beautiful meal prepared by some of the best chefs in our fine town we will be actioning some amazing items, services and pieces of art donated by the community and Mr Jared Padalecki.”
Who none of us have met yet. Thought I think he might have been the tall, not as old as I thought he would have been male that Mrs Riesgraf dragged through the room ten minutes ago.
“Please bid generously as your money is going to a good cause and enjoy your night. Thank you all for coming.”
There’s another smattering of applause and I finally notice my sister is not exactly sitting calmly in her seat. I know from previous experience that her fidgeting is always bad news. For me.
“What have you done, Jenny?”
Her smile has guilt plastered all over it like bright red lipstick.
“What makes you think I’ve done anything?”
“I don’t know, the fact that all days of the week end ‘y’? Maybe because the sky is blue and water is wet? Because your name is Jennifer Kane and I know you? Pick a reason, any reason.”
Mark just laughs and Jenny smacks her husband’s shoulder. But you will notice she’s not disagreeing with me.
“Just tell me, sis.”
“You’re being auctioned tonight.”
“I’m fucking what?”
At no point has anybody mentioned anything about actual people being sold off.
Jenny opens her mouth, and just as quickly Mark wraps a hand around his wife’s mouth.
“What your lovely, incredible sister should be saying is no, you are not being auctioned off like one of your prize bulls, but she has volunteered you to make a custom piece of furniture for whomever bids enough for the privilege tonight.”
“You…fuck.”
When in doubt, shut your mouth and start again.
Or just let the waiter put your starter in front of you, that works as well.
“Sir, you have the chilli shrimp, and ma’am you have a beef tartare.”
Both Jenny and I murmur ‘thank you’ because despite appearances we were brought up properly.
“Why on earth couldn’t you tell me that before now, Jenny? I’m hardly going to kill you, at least not until Grace is old enough to be out of diapers and I can kidnap her.”
“You would have said ‘no’.”
“For a good reason! It’s almost breeding season and I’ll all over the state attending livestock sales, and even without all of that, I’m not a fucking carpenter! I play with tools and wood because it’s cheaper than therapy and more interesting than a gym. Nobody is going to want to buy something I bash together in the storage shed.”
Not when something like that sculpture is up for grabs.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Christian. Everybody that sees the crib you made Grace falls in love with it, and the detail you put into it is amazing. People are going to want something you’ve made, that much I am positive of.”
This lady is a Kane and there’s no arguing with her. Mostly because I’m a Kane as well, and we don’t fight with our women in public.
“Eat your beef, Jenny.”
“Swap you for the shrimp?”
Without a word I hand over my shrimp while I’m pretending to ignore Mark’s laughter. All three of us know I would no more have said no than I would have shaved my head and start hanging out at airports.
~*~
Half past six
~Jared’s POV~
“This beef is raw.”
Beth sounds horrified. I’m just damn glad I got the shrimp.
“That’s what beef tartare normally means.”
“So if you know what it is, that means you’ve eaten it before. And if you’ve eaten it before you can eat it again.”
I’m about to shatter that hopefully, vaguely begging expression.
“Yes, I’ve ordered it before, but sheer mistake. No, I didn’t eat it, because, hello, it’s raw beef. Beth, I’m sure you’re a sweetheart, but there’s no way in hell I’m swapping with you.”
“Meanie.”
I might have been about to say something else but suddenly Beth’s plate is disappearing only to be replaced the shrimp. The waiter doesn’t say anything, but he does wink as he walks quickly away.
“Ladies and gentleman, can I have your attention please?”
It’s the same lady that did the whole introduction speech. I think.
“We’ll be holding our first auction when you’ve finished your appetisers, so while you’re enjoying your food be thinking about how you can work it off with a years worth of yoga classes.”
Just for the record, trying to swallow a laugh and ending up choking? Not fun. As in not at all.
“My friend Christian had that same reaction. Without the choking that is.”
“And your friend Christian is?”
Grabbing my chin, Beth leans back and moves my face until I’m looking at the only other guy in the room not wearing a tie. He is however wearing shoes.
He’s also…well, he’s not gorgeous, and the red hue to his face says he’s not exactly cut and polished…but he has something working for him and when he smiles at something the woman sitting next to him says I know what that something is. His eyes and his smile are absolutely killer.
“That’s Christian.”
Christian, Christian…Christian?
“As in Kane? The cattle baron?”
“I’m not sure they still use that word, even here in Texas. But yes, that’s Christian Kane. Next to him is the reason he’s here, his sister, Jenny, and next to her is her husband, Mark.”
“He’s…not as old as I thought he’d be.”
Every time his name comes up people talk about him like he’s a Texas legend that’s been around forever. Turn out he’s probably not even got ten years on me. That’s kind of interesting.
“You want me to really make your night, Jared?”
“Sure, why not. Make away, Miss Beth.”
“Chris is the other gay man in this room.”
And it just got a whole lot more fucking interesting.
~*~
Seven O’Clock
~Christian’s POV~
Beth bought the yoga lessons, colour me not surprised.
This time it’s Miss Riesgraf on stage telling us about what they’re auctioning off while the staff are getting ready to serve the entrée. But I can service my own car, my dogs would leave home if I had them groomed and my house does not need any of what ever the hell that red and black thing is. It’d just gather dust and it’s ugly so the words being spoken fade into the background and I focus my attention on my sister.
“You keep up with the society cra-pages, don’t you, Jen?”
“Don’t worry, Christian, you’re not engaged this week.”
“I hope Grace inherits your smart mouth, Jennifer.”
Because god knows I’ll be the one encouraging just that.
“It could be worse, she could inherit yours.”
Perhaps we won’t examine that possibility too closely, shall we?
“Oh, ha ha. All this back chat for a simple yes or no answer, Jen.”
“Okay then, yes, I read the paper. But you don’t give two hoots about that kind of thing so why are you asking?”
Here’s where I say ‘no reason’ and Jenny spends the rest of the evening prying it out of me. Or I can admit to what will be certain defeat anyway and ask her what I want to know subjecting myself to a whole new level of painful interrogation.
It’s basically your average lose/lose scenario.
“Tell me about the sculpting guy Padalecki.”
I’m doing my best to sound casual about the question though why I’m even bothering to attempt it beyond me.
“Christian?”
My grown sister is squeaking out my name and all but bouncing in her seat and I can’t help wonder if when her boys start dating she’ll stop getting so excited over the possibility of my finding somebody. I can live in hope, but the reality is, I doubt it.
“Jennifer, I swear if you don’t calm down I’ll-“
“You won’t do anything and you know it.”
Bitch.
Mostly because she’s right.
“Just cut me a break, remember you’re in a public place and answer my damn question.”
She’s still smiling like a Cheshire cat. Momma would be upset if I shipped my only sibling to Timbuktu, wouldn’t she?
“Firstly, Christian, you’re not going to find anything about Jared Padalecki in the society pages. He’s almost as antisocial as somebody else I know. Oh. Wait, that’s you.”
Leaning forward and ignoring Jenny, I smile at Mark showing all of my clenched teeth.
“You won’t miss her if I sell her to white slave traders, will you?”
Jenny slaps my shoulder and damn it, that hurts. I might have made a mistake teaching her how to hit properly.
“Leave me out of your sibling squabbles you two. I’ll be the one sitting here, ignoring both of you, and talking quietly to Andrew.”
The rest of the table is full of Mark and Jenny’s friends and they’re all perfectly used to me and my sister so they’re taking a page out of Mark’s book and pretending we’re not here. The men would be laughing at me if not for one little thing – they all have wives and sisters too.
Me? I’ve only got Jenny, and she’s more than enough. Why the hell would I want a female in my bed as well?
After glaring at Mark, I’m sitting back in my seat wondering if she’ll will ever get that damn smile of her face.
Here goes nothing.
“Please, my lady and mistress, continue if you will.”
“Thank you brother of mine. Anyway, as I was saying, Jared’s never in the gossip column, but he’s often in the arts pages. He’s from San Antonio, not married and that’s about it personal information wise. Professionally he took a lot of hits when he started because he was young and as such couldn’t have suffered for his art. From what I understand it didn’t matter that what he could do with his hands was amazing, what mattered most were the numbers involved with his date of birth.”
That sounds more than a little familiar. Ten years ago when I bought my first ranch I was apparently a young upstart who didn’t know his asshole from his ear hole and should’ve still be rodeoing. I actually know of at least two pools that took bets on my failing, the longest they thought it would take me to go bankrupt was five years.
When that mark passed and I bought my second farm I made those old bastards donate their money to charity.
Jenny’s not saying anything because she knows I get it.
“The fact these old biddy’s are damn near falling over themselves to kiss art boys ass means I’m okay to assume the idiotic critics got over that bull?”
“You of all people should know how hard it is to argue with success, Christian. Not to mention his pieces really are beautiful beyond words.”
Hell yes they are.
And oh yeah, I know how that works. Success in the public eye isn’t the best reason for you to work your ass off, but as a motivator, it works.
“If I ever become one of those pompous individuals I’m expecting you to smack me, Jen. Repeatedly.”
“I have to wait until then?”
She says it with such a smile in her polite words that all I can do is laugh. By the time I’m drying my eyes they’re actioning off some kind of spa thing, and yeah I’m bidding on it. Jenny deserves a present and maybe it’ll stop me from getting the beating she’s dying to give me. For tonight at least.
~*~
Twenty to eight
~Jared’s POV~
“Christian bought that for Jenny.”
He’s just bought a two day spa treatment, I was kind of hoping it wasn’t for him.
“Jenny?”
“His sister, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
At least there’s no twink boyfriend hidden somewhere. That’s good, right?
“He spoils her rotten.”
“I spoil my sister too. She’s younger than me, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
Nothing being a reality, not an abstract concept.
“Jenny’s actually the reason Christian’s here tonight.”
I don’t say anything, but the ‘go on’ is written all over my face, I know it.
“Jenny and Mark’s baby girl was born about eight weeks back, and she was born about ten weeks early. Grace arrived and lived in tonight’s subject hospital up until about ten days ago. I’m kind of surprised Chris didn’t just build whatever the hospital needed with his own two hands. Christian is all about family, but his nephews and his niece? They’re his world. He may look like this big, bad Texan, but if you’re the right person? He’s a cross between a marshmallow and a teddy bear with extra stuffing.”
I have no idea what to say to that and Beth isn’t looking like she’s waiting for a reply. So I’m just left in silence, thinking and sneaking glances at what most old timers would call the typical Texan.
Almost.
The tan with the reddish tinge, that’s Texas. Our state could almost appreciate the fact his eyes are almost the same colour as bluebonnets and just as bright. He’s shorter than real cowboys are meant to be, but those shoulders? Fuck me, they look broad enough to carry anything. The only thing that isn’t Texas is the fact he obviously doesn’t believe in shaving or haircuts. The long hair and facial scruff look anything but wrong on him. You could knots your hands in that hair, and the almost a beard would leave your skin raw in all the best places.
It’s time like these I wish I was everything the outside world thinks I am. Because if I was this over friendly, exuberant, don’t care what anybody else thinks kind of guy I could just waltz over there and introduce myself. Maybe offer to blow him in the garden outside.
Instead I’m the guy that used up all his bravado turning up to this event barefoot. If I’d know Christian Kane would be here and he was gay, I would worn shoes.
I can already hear Chad being epicly disappointed in me. And when Chad things you’ve let the ball drop it’s a whole new level that nobody with any morals should ever visit.
“Jared?”
Damn, how long did I zone out for? Because of the tone of Beth’s voice I think the answer is too long.
“I’m sorry, Beth, what were you saying?”
She was saying something, I hope.
“You don’t like this kind of thing much, do you?”
Somehow I doubt that was her original question, and it’s a little serious after all our flirting, but I’m answering her all the same.
“Honestly? No. Part of the reason I became a sculptor is because I don’t have to interact with other people and even my friends I’ve known for years won’t come near me when I’m in my studio. But this is a great cause, and I wanted to do it, it’s just…”
“Overwhelming?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Beth smiles, and I think she gets it.
“That’s the reason Aldis, my boyfriend, isn’t here, he feels so out of his depth at these things and I’m not going to put him in that situation. It’s not fair. So Grandma pays for me to come, which she would do anyway, I dress up for a little while, and usually, once the formalities are over, I spend most of the night with Christian and Jenny people watching and wondering how some of these dresses can cost so much and still be butt ugly.”
“He’s a lucky man.”
“Yeah, he is.”
You have to love a woman that knows her own worth.
And they’re auctioning golf lessons, now there’s a stupid sport.
“How about I see if I can change your luck a little, Jared?”
“Beth, you just met me!”
“I know, but I like you, and I have good people instincts – you’re good people.”
My Momma taught me not to argue with a lady when they’re right. And they are always right.
“If you say so, but how do you know my luck needs changing?”
“I do say so, and as to how I know, well, you’re here alone, aren’t you?”
The better part of valour is sometimes just keeping your fat mouth shut.
“Besides, Jared, maybe I want to change Chris’ luck as well. Though all I’m going to do is make sure you two get properly introduced. See I know, one hundred percent for certain, that Chris is going to go home with your sculpture tonight.”
“He liked it?”
Yes, I’m surprised. It’s a purple-ish angel thing. I would have thought something like a wild mustang in full flight would be more his speed.
God, Jared, buy into a stereotype or three why don’t you?
“Trust me Jared, Chris is buying it. I thought I was going to have to drag him away from it earlier.”
“Cool.”
Incredible even.
“So like I said, I’m just going to make sure you two meet each other somewhere away from the well meaning old ladies and press cameras. And you never know, you might just find something to bid on tonight as well.”
As my entrée, which is some kind of fish, is put in front of me I realise I’m not that hungry. I’m also wondering if I seem like the kind of guy that would ever be interested in buying tennis lesson or whatever the hell is up next.
~*~
Eight O’Clock
~Christian’s POV~
“I have a question. Last time I looked we were in Texas, how hard is it to realise that at least half of the room would appreciate a good steak?”
My question was directed to nobody is particular, but every man on the table is trying not to smirk.
I think what I have in front of me is some kind of fowl, Jenny has fish and this entire meal is making me wonder how hard it’s going to be to get a pizza on the way home.
“Just eat your quail, Christian. It’ll do your cholesterol levels the world of good.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my blood work, Jennifer.”
The fact they’re as good as they are amazes my doctor.
And now they selling off some hair cut style thing by somebody called Sir Sinbad and it’s valued at a stupid amount of money.
Fuck, seriously, when can I go home?
~*~
Twenty past eight
~Jared’s POV~
“Why is there no red meat on offer?”
Okay, maybe I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but, c’mon, this is Texas, right?
“I have this feeling you and Chris are going to get along famously.”
And that wasn’t really the answer I was expecting. Even though I wasn’t expecting an answer at all.
“Because of red meat?”
“Well, yes, I guess. But mostly because I’d bet dollars to donuts that Chris over there whining about the exact same thing.”
“We’re men. We need meat.”
“You’re both princesses who are going to eat what’s put in front of them and smile while you do it.”
“You haven’t known me long enough to call me a princess, Beth.”
“I call ‘em as I see ‘em, Princess. Eat your quail.”
“I don’t want to be your friend any more, Miss Beth.”
I’m sure Beth would answer me if she wasn’t too busy laughing.
Dear god, I think they’re selling off a giant orange penis, only they’re calling it a fountain.
And damn it, my stupid bird thing is gone and I’m still hungry.
I wonder if I can get a pizza on the way home?
~*~
Nine O’Clock
~Christian’s POV~
“Christian?”
That tone of voice only comes from Momma, or Jenny, and it always means they’re about to say something I’m not going to like but can do fuck all about. And since my beloved sister has already told me she’s selling me tonight I’m dreading what’s coming next.
“Jennifer?”
She’s smiling at me in a way I know means I’m about to kill her, in public or not.
“Just tell me, Jenny. Batting your eyelashes isn’t going to make you death any less painful.”
“Weeeelllllll…”
Oh fuck me.
“See, we know how beautiful the furniture you make is, Christian, and so does everybody that’s seen it. But not everybody has seen it, sooooo…”
I’m sure she was about to say something, but Ms Riesgraf is on stage again and she has a microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, apart from the beautiful artwork from the incredible Jared Padalecki we have to auction off tonight, we have another special treat. The gracious Christian Kane has offered up his services to make one of his personal one of a kind pieces of furniture for the lucky highest bidder. Now I know not everybody knows of this talent Mr Kane has, so thanks to his sister, we have a slide show of pieces Christian has made to wet your appetite. The slide show will be playing as you eat dessert and we’ll be commencing the auction straight afterwards. Thank you all and I’m sure you’ll agree with me when I say whoever wins this will have made an investment worth every penny.”
The smile on Jenny’s face right now is, well, it’s not as easy as it was before Beth’s grandmother starting talking. She’s a smart lady my sister.
“I’ll give you to count of ten as a head start.”
“You won’t kill Grace’s mother.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that? C’mon, Jenny, this…you…fuck!”
Thank god Momma and Daddy aren’t here, or I’d have one hell of the thick ear right about now.
“I wanted them to know how talented you were, Christian.”
“And the fact I haven’t wanted anybody but family to know that up to this point? Jenny, I would have written you a cheque for any amount, you didn’t have to…”
The waiter is starting to serve some kind of something and I really don’t much care. I don’t want to be here for this part.
“I know you meant well, darlin’, but I’m just going to go for a little walk now and cool down. I will be back, but how about you just eat my dessert and let me be for the next fifteen minutes or so.”
As I push my chair back and stand, Jenny takes hold of my arm.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“I know.”
And I do know. But this is not something I wanted to share and it’s not something I want to sit here for.
“I’ll be back, Jenny, honest.”
If for no other reason than I still want that sculpture.
~*~
Nine thirty.
~Jared’s POV~
The crumble thing somebody put in front of me is slowly going cold because I can’t take my eyes of the slide show they’re playing. If I’d have thought he was a guy that wore pink sparkles and carried a teacup poodle in his handbag, that would have been equally as close as the assumptions I was making in my head. The first photograph they showed us of a cradle, a traditional, wooden, rocking cradle. The wood was seasoned and must have been recycled from something, but the header? Fuck me, they didn’t show you much of a close up, but I’m from Texas and trained to recognise bluebonnets, which is exactly what Christian had craved into it. The second piece was a table, but as far from just a table as anything I’ve ever seen because inlaid into that table was the Texas flag.
This guy is an artist, just as much as I am.
And it just goes on from there. I’m not sure I’m not drooling, but Beth’s gasp gets my attention.
“What’s wrong?”
Because yes, that gasp is the universal ‘something’s not right’ sound.
“Christian just walked out.
“What?”
I know I shouldn’t be as upset as I sound, but even without Beth’s matchmaking I’d want to meet this guy.
“He’ll be back. I think.”
“You think?”
She thinks.
“Yes, I think. But I’m going to go talk to Jenny and make sure. I was right though, wasn’t I? You found something you want to bid on?”
“You know I did, now, go find out if the person behind it is coming back.”
Apart from the meeting thing, for the first time in a long time I care about where something I’ve donated might end up.
“I’ll be back.”
“You’d better be.”
Turning back to the big screen, I find it’s still showing pictures and this time it’s a fucking amazing book case with sides made like musical notes. I don’t care what anybody else thinks, Christian Kane is going to be making something for me and me alone.
By the time Beth’s Grandma is back on stage, my untouched dessert is gone and Beth’s not back. Neither is Christian.
Okay, I might be a little concerned about both of those things. Maybe.
“Ladies and gentlemen, bidding will now begin on a piece of custom made furniture by Dallas’ own Christian Kane.”
This lady really doesn’t seem to care Dallas’ own isn’t here right now. Actually from the way the bidding starts, nobody is, because before I can catch up with what’s going on some blonde cougar has offered up a bid of some stupid amount of money.
Chad’s always telling me I should lash out more and I get the feeling tonight is going to be one hell of a splurge on my behalf.
A couple of minutes later, the blonde’s husband has obviously put his foot down, but two other people are happily bidding against each other and they just hit something that really totals up to amazing on the amount of money scale.
I can wait though until they’ve worn each other out, which is exactly what they’ve done by the time they’ve gone up another couple of thousand dollars.
“Mr Boreanaz, you currently have the leading bid. Good folks, I’m calling this as the final offer, going once, going twice, going-“
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
It’s for a hospital and I can afford it.
The room is silent. Well it is for about five seconds and then Ms Riesgraf can’t count off quick enough.
“Mr Padalecki, you have the highest bid, going once, going twice, gone! Jared, thank you so much for your generous donation and I hope you enjoy your beautiful furniture piece.”
Furniture my ass, what Chris Kane does is create art.
I’m smiling and nodding at her grandparent when Beth sits down beside me, grabbing my chin to force my face to my right. Before mentioned Mr Kane is standing there, watching me and I wish I knew what that look on his face meant.
“He came back.”
That’s it, Jared, state the obvious.
“Yeah, he did. He’s a little mad at his sister because he didn’t know anything about her volunteering him and giving Grandmother the pictures to use.”
“Should I ask why?”
“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway. Nobody apart from his family knew about the things Christian makes and saying he’s a private man is a little like saying water’s wet.”
“Let me guess, the guy I out bid-“
“Is one of Christian’s oldest and best friends. David thinks it’s his job to protect Christian, which is why he was trying to buy a piece of Chris’ when he’s already been given at least three articles that I know of.”
“Oh.”
Eloquent I know, but it’s all I can come up with. I feel like I’ve intruded on something without actually know exactly what.
“Jared?”
Mrs, umm, something is standing beside me holding out her hand. I guess it’s time to sing for my supper. Standing up, I take her arm and smile.
“Lead the way, Ma’am.”
As much as I hate this part, I know how it goes. I hate it, but I’m good at it.
Jared Padalecki, art protégée. He’s somebody totally separate from me, and to be honest, that’s just the way I like it.
~*~
Ten O’Clock
~Christian’s POV~
“I’m sorry, Christian.”
That’s the bitch of it, I know she is.
Leaning down I kiss Jenny’s cheek before taking my place beside her again.
“I know you are, darlin’. It’s okay, really. Just next time, ask okay? You know there’s very little chance I’ll say no no matter what you ask for me. Okay, I might say no to start with, but we both know you’ll change my mind in the long run.”
And the long run never is that long.
“I will, Christian, I promise.”
Okay, this air around us is my fault and it’s time to lighten it.
“So the artist bought me and I’m about to buy him. This’ll be interesting.”
Mark is a very smart man, which is why he married my sister and he follows my lead.
“You’re that sure you’re going home with that angel thing?”
“Yeah, I am. Haven’t you heard? I’m Christian Kane, I get whatever I want.”
That gets the reaction I’m looking for and my sister laughs. Taking her hand, I squeeze right as Mrs Porter takes the stage. She’s got a firm hold on art boy and as much as he’s smiling something tells me if he could’ve phoned this one in, he would have.
And aren’t his feet fucking cold?
“Once again ladies and gentlemen, could I please have your upmost attention. We are ever so lucky to have a sculpture by the renowned artist Jared Padalecki to auction for our cause tonight. The piece has been on display for you all to delight over, but now I’m going to hand the microphone over to the man himself to let you know all about his creation.”
I wasn’t planning on listening to the rambling, only doing it enough to work out when the bidding started, but this should be interesting. And yeah, I want to hear his voice.
“Umm, hi, everybody. I’m Jared Padalecki as this lovely lady has just told you all, and I’d like to start by thanking the committee for this fundraiser for inviting me here tonight. I am always happy to donate to worthy cause and there is no more important reason to give money than our children. Children were foremost in my mind when I was making the wood carving I’ve donated tonight, probably most importantly for me, my niece and nephew.”
When you look into his eyes, it’s kind of easy to see when he talks he’s almost reading a script written and memorised only in his head, but there’s a subtle change when he mentions his family and…and I might want to walk out of here tonight with more than a carved piece of purple heart.
A phone number and a date at some point soon would be nice.
“When I watch my brother with his children, I see a protective instinct that I never noticed in my parent’s, mostly because without me knowing it had always been there. With Jeff, my brother, it was an instant change and that’s why my piece has those wings keeping its precious gift safe from everything, because children are a gift, and no matter how big they grow, in the eyes of their parent’s they are always something fragile and infinitely breakable. Just ask my Mom, even though all three of her children tower over her by at least five inches and in my case, it closed to ten.”
That gets him the laugh he knew it would.
“There’s no real reason why the piece is crafted in wood, other than I like the feel of working with it, and the pearl just kind of fit when I saw it. That’s how it goes a lot of the time for an artist, you have no idea what you’re doing until what you’re working on tells you what it is. I hope whomever ends up with the sculpture, that I’ve named ‘Protector’ enjoys it, touches it and lives with it. Thank you again for the opportunity to be here tonight and I’ll hand the microphone back to this lovely lady and let the auction begin.”
He’s totally forgotten Mrs Porter’s name, hadn’t he?
“Believe me, Jared, we are more than happy to have you. Now everybody, I know how generous you’ve been up to this point, but I’m about to ask you to dig a little deeper. Bidding will start at five thousand dollars and do I have an first bid?”
Mrs Rogers gives up that bid without even blinking. Then again, that’s how much a year she spends on grooming her butt ugly dog.
The price keeps going up and up. Mrs Rogers drops out, but Mrs Andrews is more than happy to take her place. Matt Roberts is giving her a damn good run for her money though.
By the time the bidding has hit thirty thousand, art boy is looking a little shell-shocked.
Sweetheart, you ain’t seen nothing yet.
It’s at thirty-eight grand when things start slowly down and I’m betting Buck Porter is getting lucky tonight. From the way his wife is bouncing, anybody would think she was keeping the damn money.
Matt Roberts has just bid thirty nine five and Mrs Andrews has admitted defeat. He thinks he’s got it.
My turn.
“Fifty thousand.”
Oops, sorry Buck, you won’t be getting lucky after all. Mrs Porter just came at the sound of my bid.
“Thank you Mr Kane, Mr Roberts, do you have a counter bid?”
“Fifty five.”
“Seventy thousand.”
That sound was my sister having a heart attack and our lovely chairlady just found out what a multiple orgasm felt like.
“Christian.”
Jenny’s whispering, so I’m whispering back without taking my attention from my prize.
“I know what I’m doing, darlin’, I just want that sculpture and I’m done pussyfooting around about it.”
Matt doesn’t wait for Mrs Porter to speak before he concedes.
“No, Ma’am, I don’t have a bid to match that.”
Yes, I knew that.
“Then ladies and gentlemen, I declare the new owner of this amazing object d’art Mr Christian Kane. I don’t suppose I could get you to come up here for some photographs Christian?”
“You don’t suppose right, ma’am.”
I don’t do publicity shots, not even for my sister. And everybody knows better than to push it.
“Oh well, it was worth a try. Thank you all for your incredible generosity and I hope you enjoy your spoils. This concludes the formal part of our night, but there will be fireworks at midnight, so please, enjoy the open bar until then. Thank you all again.”
Mrs Porter is whispering in Jared’s ear, and I get this feeling people are about ten seconds from swarming me. People I would rather avoid.
“I’m just going to step outside for some air, Jen.”
“And you want me to field the masses?”
“Yep.”
“Then you better get moving, Christian.”
Grabbing my drink, then as quickly as I can, I’m up, making it look like I’m heading to the bathroom, but instead of turning left, I’m turning right into the darken courtyard.
I will go back in there. Soon.
Ish.
~*~
Ten forty.
~Jared’s POV~
It’s only because I’m watching him that I see Christian slip from the room, not into the bathroom and as soon as I can, I’ll be following him. I don’t want Beth introducing us, I want this to just be between him and me.
I think I want a lot of things to be between him and me, and considering I haven’t spoken to the man, that’s saying something.
First things first though, I have to get away from everybody that suddenly wants to talk to me. I should have remember that the end of the food means the end of people staying put.
I have no idea who I’m talking too, though they all introduce themselves. I just know they all have something to say about Christian.
Not all of them overly charitable.
Okay, as far as I’m concerned the society pages are just the National Enquirer with better breeding, but I know enough to know Christian Kane is a self-made ex rodeo man. I’d bet at least half of the people trying to throw mud come from old money that is slowly dwindling because they have no idea what to do with said money other than spend it.
Times like this I wish I had Chad with me. He opens his mouth, sticks his foot down his throat and just doesn’t give a fuck who he might on insulted. If fact if you wait five minutes, he’ll do it all over again.
I want to get outside while Christian is still outside. I just have to get this ass in front of me to shut up first.
“Buck, I believe I heard Ms Porter saying she wants you *straight* away.”
Beth actually winks when she says that, completely straight faces and I think I’m going to have to see this girl again, soon. Maybe meet her and her boyfriend for coffee.
Buck, whoever Buck is, disappears.
“I think I love you.”
“Not yet, but you will.”
“Huh?”
Beth hands me two empty glasses and a bottle of…whiskey.
Oh yeah, loving her even more now.
“We’re going to get plastered? With real liquor and everything?”
“No, we aren’t. But you’re going to take this bottle and those glasses and you’re going to follow Chris outside and Jenny and I are going to cover for you while you do.”
It’s only then that I notice Christian’s sister just behind Beth.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Now shoo.”
I can do that.
“Thank you both.”
They might have said something else but I’m taking the direction they both gave me and heading outside. I don’t know what they do to make sure nobody sees me leave, but you know what? I really don’t fucking care.
~*~
Eleven O’Clock
~Christian’s POV~
This moment, right now is why I don’t do this kind of event if I have a choice. My suit feels too tight, even tough it’s custom made. There’s more bullshit being produced in the room I just left than there is on my farm. And even out here, the dark is ruined by all kinds of artificial light and shit. Fuck, I’m starting to sound like a two year old that’s about to throw a tantrum because they want to go home. To be honest, that’s about how I feel too.
Because let’s face it, even if I don’t meet art boy tonight I’ll be seeing him soon enough. After all, we own each other, right?
“Drink?”
And just like that the object of my thought is standing in front of me holding a bottle of Jack and two glasses filled with ice.
This isn’t quite the sooner I was musing about, but okay. Start as you mean to go on has always been my motto, so ignoring the hand holding the glassware, I grab the bottle and break the seal with taking a healthy pull all in one smooth movement.
“Don’t mind if I do. You gonna sit down art boy?”
“Jared.”
“Christian.”
Taking the bottle back from me he swallows his own version of a mouthful before sitting down on the bench beside me.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
I can already tell this one’s got a sense of humour.
Neither of us seems to be in a hurry to speak after that as we pass the bottle back and forth. I don’t know what his issues are, but as far as I’m concerned it’s been a damn long time since I had one of these conversations with somebody I want to see again after the condom has been flushed and I’ll be damned if I know where to start.
“You don’t have to you know.”
I was so lost in my own lack of social ability that his voice actually makes me jump. Isn’t that just fucking peachy.
“I don’t have to what exactly?”
“Anything, all of it. You don’t have to let me sit here, or talk to me. I’m happy to donate the money to the hospital without you doing something for a stranger when you’d normally only do it for family. Whatever the fuck is spinning through your head – you don’t have to do it.”
“I was trying to work out how to ask if you’d be interested in going home with me tonight and still be around for me to cook you breakfast in the morning. I know I don’t have to do that, but, fuck, I want too.”
The wanting to feed him thing might last of all of a week, but I follow my gut in every other aspect of my life, just this once I’m going to try that on for size in this situation as well.
“You sure about that, Christian? You don’t exactly know me.”
“Where as you’ve been sitting next to Beth all night so you probably know what colour boxers I prefer.”
“You wear underwear?”
“Sometimes.”
Tonight I’ve been kind of grateful for it especially right now when Jared’s gaze drops to my lap.
When he speaks though, there’s no teasing in his tone.
“Beth told me your name, that the beauty sitting next to you is your sister and the reason you’re here tonight. She told me that you would buy my artwork, and that you wouldn’t turn me down for not having a pussy. Nothing else. I wouldn’t have wanted her too, half the fun of starting something new is finding out what makes the other person tick. Or at least that’s what my roommate tells me.”
“Your roommate?”
I can’t imagine still living with Steve, or Dave and I some how doubt Jared needs the money.
“Yeah, I keep him around as a court jester kind of thing. He has no filter from his brain to his mouth and while that isn’t exactly a good thing, when Chad says something I’ve drafted out is shit, I absolutely know it’s shit.”
“I’ll be honest, I haven’t seen a lot of your stuff, but I doubt any of it meets that kind of description.”
People throw around all kinds of sayings without ever really thinking about what they’re saying, but who ever first said somebody’s smile could light up a room, they were talking about Jared. There’s not one part of his face that isn’t grinning along with his lips.
“I can tell you’re not an art critic.”
“Critics are just people that wish they were half as good as what they’re passing judgement on but don’t have the balls to admit it.”
Jared grabs the bottle I’m just dangling from my fingertips and without drinking anything from it put it down at the end of the bench, then in a move that might possibly be graceful if he was about six inches shorter, swings one leg over until he’s straddling the seat. I know I shouldn’t laugh, and I don’t, but there’s no stopping the goofy grin.
“Remind me never to pass judgement on anybody that can move without looking like a upturned giraffe.”
“I dunno, Jared, you make a very good flailing giraffe, I don’t think anybody else could do it in a more fluid ass over tea kettle motion than you.”
“Your chances of getting your cock sucked tonight will diminish incredibly if you keep picking on my artistic limbs, cowboy.”
Just like that the mood has shifted. I should be happy, right? He’s good to go, I’m more than happy to oblige and…
And I really, really want to cook him breakfast tomorrow morning. It’s weird, but that thought just won’t let go.
“Don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way, because I want to fuck you, or bend over for you, I’m really not that fussy, but…I’m too old to be happy with just the prospect of what will probably be an incredible one night stand in front of me. I have no idea why, but I’m going to be upfront and honest and tell you at this point in my life, I’m looking for more.”
I wish I knew why tonight of all night, I’m feeling the urge to channel my Momma, especially with this fucking amazing specimen of hot in front of me, but all I can hear in my head is a mixture of advice from her and Daddy. She’s telling me it’s about time I thought about settling down, and Dad’s saying I shouldn’t date anybody I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with because it’s not fair to either of us. Why the fuck was I able to ignore that gem until tonight?
“What kind of more, Christian?”
He hasn’t run away screaming, which is probably what I’d be doing, so that’s a good thing, right?
“You really think I’ve thought this through enough to be able to answer that question, Jared? Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve actually said everything that’s come out of my mouth since you sat down.”
That’s when Jared’s hands reach forward and literally cover mine before he turns them palm up and lets his fingers trace over the cuts and half healed nicks that decorate my hands.
“I’m still sitting here so…so far, so good, and I wouldn’t have asked the question if I didn’t want to hear the answer.”
As soon as I let my fingers twist and tangle with his all I can do is smile. It just feels right.
“This whole conversation doesn’t seem a little strange to you when there hasn’t even been any kissing yet?”
“So change that and kiss me.”
What else is a guy to do? We’re holding hands while sitting face to face on a bench as New Years bares down on us on a chilly Dallas night and I’m leaning forward to do just want he wants me to do – kiss him.
~*~
Eleven Twenty Five
~Jared’s POV~
I’ve been kissed before. I’ve been kissed before a lot. I just don’t ever remember a first kiss feeling exactly like this one does. There’s always been a hesitancy either from me or the person I’m kissing but it’s completely missing as Chris’ lips open against mine, silently asking me to follow him. As I feel his tongue slide along my lower lip there’s not even a second of consideration to the possibility of me refusing him.
But he doesn’t plunge in as my lips part, just breaks the kiss enough to drag his teeth over my lip before sucking the nothing pain gone. In the end it’s me that chases his mouth, slipping my tongue against his then further into his mouth to taste whatever he’ll share with me. My hands tighten around Chris’ when his tongue pushes against mine letting me know that he is every much a big a part of this moment as I am. When it’s my turn to pull back, Chris is following with random, soft little pecking kisses that allow us both to breath. Those kisses slow down, I’m not ready to let this finish so letting go of his hands I move until my fingers are in his hair holding Christian still while I start the kissing all over again, and while I don’t hear the purr, I know he made some kind of sound because I swear it vibrated down to my soul.
Okay, that thought stops the kiss, but I’m not letting go of him as my head rests on his shoulder.
“That was a first kiss?”
All I can do is laugh.
“Yes, Chris, it was. And a fucking amazing one at that.”
I’m going to take his hands sliding up my thighs as total agreement. Especially when they slip to the inside of my leg when they get just below my cock. The same cock that desperately wants to be touched.
“You wouldn’t want to move your hands up just a little, would you?”
Lips press into my hair somewhere around my ear.
“Fuck yes I do, but not here. I have a perfectly good bed not far from here and what I want to do to you is going to take the rest of tonight and the best part of tomorrow for starters.”
Lifting my head, I move back enough to catch those blue eyes and smile.
“You tease.”
“Oh, darlin’, by the time I’m done tomorrow, you’ll know I only tease when I know I’m going to follow through.”
“And after tomorrow? Are you all talk about that too?”
If you held a gun to my head I couldn’t tell you why a guy I met forty-five minutes ago and have kissed exactly once is making me want to grab hold of him and not let go, but believe me, I have a feeling that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
“I have never spoken to hear the sound of my own voice in my life so I’m sure as fuck not going to start here and now with you. I can’t guarantee we’ll turn into this perfect gay couple with two dogs and twenty nieces and nephews, hell, two weeks from now you might be changing all your phone numbers and wishing you’d never heard of me. But you make me feel something new and it’s something I want more of, so I’m not letting you slip through my fingers, Jared Padalecki.”
“What happens if the sex blows like a two dollar whore?”
Yes, I had to ask.
“It won’t.”
He’s right, it won’t.
“The committee said something about fireworks for New Years, didn’t they? Does that mean people are about to start interrupting us and I have to let you go?”
“You don’t ever have to let me go if you don’t want to, but everybody will be going out to the main courtyard on the other side of the building to watch the display.”
I know we’re talking fireworks, but as he speaks, I can’t help watching Chris’ bottom lip and how it’s maybe a little bit swollen. I really need to take the maybe out of that sentence and his mouth is still moving when I cover it again only because I want to kiss him.
A lot.
There’s really no telling at this point if what I can taste right now is him or our not overly great dinner, but there’s a hint of something there that I have this feeling is going to be more than a little addictive.
For the first time in a very long time I really want to see what tomorrow will bring with somebody. Somebody that kisses like this man does.
His lower lip is between my teeth when I finally pull back and there’s no mistaking that swelling flesh now.
“We’re leaving right after the firework, right, Chris?”
“Fuck yes. And you’re not going home to your roommate.”
“Thank god for that.”
For the moment, I can let go of his hair, which is just perfect to hang on to, but I’m not stopping myself from touching him completely and I gather his hands in mine again.
“Do you have to say goodbye to anybody?”
“My sister, that’s all.”
I think I had something else to say, but that’s when the first of the fireworks goes off. It’s midnight, it’s New Years. And I need to kiss Christian. Again.
~*~
Midnight. Or there abouts.
~Christian’s POV~
By the time Jared’s done kissing me, and yes, that is exactly what was happening, the fireworks are done.
Hell, if he’d just touch my dick, even once, I’d be done too. Which is still not how I want this to go down. I want my bed and I want all the time in the world.
“We need to get out of here. Like five minutes ago.”
“Go find your sister, and grab your sculpture, I’ll be waiting out front for you. Because if I go back in there it’ll be next week before I can get out again.”
Standing up is a hell of a lot more steady for me than it is for Jared, he still looks like a giraffe doing cartwheels. And his feet have to be freezing.
“Jenny and Beth will make our goodbyes, believe me. They’re probably both patting each other on the back hooking us up already.”
“I like Beth. I can’t wait to meet your sister probably.”
“But you’re gonna have to wait, darlin’.”
“Yeah, I am, so will you fucking go inside already so we can leave and work our way toward breakfast in the morning?”
One last kiss is snatched and when I get to the door I can already see Jenny standing in the lobby with Beth, holding Jared’s purple heart waiting for me. I’m almost inside when Jared calls out.
“Hey, Christian?”
“Yes, Jared?”
“What’re our chances of finding a pizza shop open between here and your place? I’m hungry.”
My smile is almost a laugh, because I’d forgotten about the other hunger I had.
“I dunno, luck seems to be running my way tonight, so you never know.”
Jared winks at me as he moves out of the courtyard, through the gap in the hedge to wait for me out front and I head inside prepared to blow my sister off in a way I haven’t done in years.
I owe her a huge thanks though for dragging my ass out tonight, and she’ll get it, the day after tomorrow or the day after that. Right now I’m kissing her cheek, and carefully taking the sculpture from her as I head outside.
You know what? Luck is really just another word for taking a chance when you have no idea what the outcome will be. Could be good, could be bad.
It could leave you with somebody’s purple heart in your hands.
Oh yeah, I owe my sister big time.
~*~
A quarter past midnight – ish
~Jared’s POV~
Strangely enough, the valet parking knows exactly which car is Christian’s when I ask them to bring around Mr Kane’s vehicle and I’m guessing it’s a truck.
I’ve got about two minutes before the car and the man are out here with me and my mind let’s me have that time to think about the piece I donated tonight.
I know what everybody in that room saw in that piece. They saw a mother and child because that how it goes with art. It takes on its surroundings. A fundraiser for a children’s hospital, how could it be anything else? And whenever I’ve been asked what something I’ve created means my answer has always been that depends on who is looking at it.
This piece though, it was special, and to be honest I probably wouldn’t have donated it if I’d had anything else complete. Because I chose the wood on purpose. A purple heart has been battered and bruised but it’s still beating and those are the hearts that make the best protectors because they know what shit life can throw at you and they know how to get through it.
That misformed pearl in the being’s hands? That’s me. I want a protector.
I want my own purple heart.
“Hey, darlin’, you ready to go?”
Christian’s here, there’s a big, black, not the latest model truck sitting at the curb and I watch Chris take off his jacket, putting it on the floor of the back seat before he lays the sculpture down on top of it, taking his time to make sure it’s safe and treasured.
Okay, so maybe it’s okay to give that piece away, I don’t think I’ll be that far away from it.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Now, about that pizza?”
Both of us are still laughing when we pull away from the building and weirdly, in the side mirror, I see one last firework explode.